


Orpheus Ascending

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship/Love, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers discussing the story of Orpheus and Eurydice with James once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orpheus Ascending

He remembers discussing the story of Orpheus and Eurydice with James once.

It had been one of those nights they’d spent together at Robbie’s flat, sitting side by side on the sofa and watching crap telly, one of those nights that had seemed so normal then and is so precious now. It might’ve been a week ago…or maybe a year. Time doesn’t make sense to Robbie anymore.

“You don’t think the story’s romantic?” James had asked.

“I think it’s bollocks!” Robbie had said. “Orpheus goes through actual Hell to get Eurydice back—“

“Not actual Hell,” James interrupted. “The ancient Greek concept of the Underworld is different to the concept of Hell.”

James might’ve said more about the differences if Robbie had seemed interested, but this was one of those moments Robbie felt a bit derailed by James showing off, so Robbie simply raised his eyebrows and waited. James cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry.”

“So Orpheus goes all the way to the Underworld and he’s allowed to take Eurydice back with him and he can’t follow the one bloody rule they gave him?” Robbie shook his head.

“Some versions of the story have Eurydice beg him to look at her, to prove he still loves her,” James said.

But Robbie’d had none of it. “He can hear her. He knows she’s there. She’s holding his hand. He doesn’t have to look till it’s safe.”

“I suppose you could do better.” But there had been no malice in James’s voice, just his usual teasing tone.

“I could,” Robbie had retorted. “Nobody gets a chance to bring someone back. If I did, I’d bloody well see it through.”

The conversation had turned to other things, but it’s this part of it Robbie remembers on nights he can’t sleep, when he is reminded once again that James isn’t coming back. There will never be another conversation like that because there will never be James, ever again.

But what Robbie believed of himself then is what he believes of himself now. He would not look back.

***

One night, Robbie finds himself wandering through the streets of Oxford. If anyone else is out, the fog hides them from Robbie and Robbie from them, and although Robbie’s lived in Oxford for years, he finds the roads he walks unfamiliar, as if they’re rearranging themselves as he goes.

His discombobulation hasn’t quite vanished when he finds his way to the Randolph and goes in. He sits at a quiet table and tries not to think about who was with him last time he was here.

“May I join you?”

Robbie looks up to see a beefy, friendly-faced bloke standing beside his table. “Do I know you?”

“Probably not,” the man says. “I’m the proprietor of this place.”

Robbie nods and gestures for the man to sit, but even as the man does, Robbie is reminded of something. “I thought there was fire damage here.”

The man shrugs. “Not here. Things here stay as they were.”

“I see,” Robbie says, though he doesn’t quite.

The man smiles. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

Robbie frowns. “In what way?”

“Well, the last bloke who came this way was an artist. His art got him in. I don’t see any evidence of the same thing in you, and yet you’re here.”

The other man isn’t making much sense. Robbie would usually point this out or object to a conversation taking place so firmly in the abstract, but tonight, it doesn’t seem to matter. If the other man’s words are vague, well, Robbie’s feeling a bit vague himself.

“How did you find your way?” the other man asks.

“I’m not sure I did,” Robbie says honestly. “I’m lost, you see.”

The other man’s expression shades into sympathy. “Yes, I see.” He nods. “I suppose you’ll want the same thing?”

“I suppose,” Robbie says, feeling it’s the right thing to say.

The man gestures to someone at a nearby table, and as the someone approaches, Robbie feels a jolt right in the middle of his heart, because the someone is James. And suddenly, Robbie understands where he is and the bargain he’s about to make.

“If you can lead him back to your home, you can keep him,” the man says. “There’s just one condition.”

“I know the condition,” Robbie says, choking on the words, unable to take his eyes away from James, who is staring at the floor. Maybe he has to. Who knows what rules the dead have to follow?

“Once you take his hand, you can’t look at him,” the man says. “Not until you’re home. Do you think you can do it?”

Robbie hardly knows. He can barely think. It’s easy to make a promise when you don’t have to keep it. But now, to be in charge of James’s life…can he manage it? What if he fails?

Then James lifts his eyes and looks at Robbie, and even in the silence, Robbie knows that he will die before he lets James die again.

“I can,” Robbie says.

The man regards him for a moment. “I hope you can. Good luck.”

Robbie stands, giving James one last look before taking his hand and turning away.

He doesn’t exactly remember how he got here, and although that didn’t worry him on the way, now he is brimming with anxiety and energy and worry. He’s got to get James home; he’s got to bring him back.

“I hope this isn’t a trick,” Robbie says, half to himself and half to James.

James is silent. That’s unusual. Sometimes he’s quiet, but you’d think he’d be telling stories about the Underworld or the Randolph or wherever the hell it is he’s been. Maybe Robbie should just check to make sure it’s him…

…and that thought jars Robbie such that he nearly stops walking. Is that all it takes? A moment’s doubt, and goodbye James? No. He’ll do better than that. He has to, for James…so James can have the long life he should’ve had all along.

“Maybe you can’t talk,” Robbie says, not expecting James to answer this time. “Maybe that’s your rule. Maybe both of us have rules this time. Or maybe you’re trying to help me by staying quiet, because Eurydice wasn’t, and look what happened to her.” He sighs. “Christ, James, I hope this works. I’ve missed you.”

James squeezes Robbie’s hand. Just a small squeeze, but it’s there, and it’s everything.

“Right,” Robbie says, voice soft and a bit wobbly. “Let’s get you home.”

By the time Robbie finally sees his block of flats, he feels as though he’s been walking half the night. Maybe he has been; the Underworld can’t be just around the corner, can it? His hands tremble so badly as he unlocks the door to his flat that for a moment he thinks he might drop the keys. But he doesn’t. Once they’re inside, Robbie shuts his eyes so he can turn around and close the door, but before he turns, he hears the door close. James must’ve got it.

“You can open your eyes now,” James says.

Robbie still feels a bit wobbly inside. “What if I do and you’re not here?”

Another squeeze to Robbie’s hand. “I’m here.”

Robbie takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. James is standing in front of him.

“Oh,” Robbie whispers. He can’t think of anything more to say. James is in front of him—actual living, breathing James.

“You can let go of my hand,” James says gently.

“Don’t think I can,” Robbie says. “Did I…did I really just…?”

James nods. “Let’s sit.”

Robbie stares at him. “You want to sit? Like everything’s normal?”

“No, I want to sit because you look like you’re going to faint in another minute,” James says.

Normally Robbie would chuckle or smile at that, but it’s been so long that James has poked fun at him that tears spring to his eyes instead. “Er, yeah, that’s…” But he can’t think of a way to finish the sentence that won’t make him cry.

James must have some sense of how Robbie’s feeling, because he helps him to the sofa and sits next to him. Robbie leans against James a bit, feeling utterly exhausted.

“You can sleep,” James suggests.

“I can’t,” Robbie says, though he’d dearly love to. “What if I’m sleeping now? And going to sleep means waking up? And…” He can’t say ‘and you’ll be gone again.’ He can barely let himself think it. He turns toward James and hugs him.

“Thank you,” James says, slightly wry.

“Sorry,” Robbie says, embarrassed that it hadn’t occurred to him that James might not want to be hugged. “It’s…it’s only…”

James hugs him back. 

“I know,” James whispers, and it occurs to Robbie that, whatever he’s been through, James has been through it too—just from the other side of things.

Eventually Robbie sleeps because he can’t help it, not because he wants to.

***

“You were right,” James says, waking Robbie.

“Right about what?” Robbie mumbles. He feels odd. His back aches a bit, and…is he sitting up? What has he got in his arms, or who?

Remembering it all is like hearing a nearby crash of thunder. Robbie’s eyes snap open, and he pulls back from James a bit.

James manages to look utterly blase. “Good morning.”

“You!” Robbie gasps, barely resisting the urge to poke James a few times to make sure he exists.

“I told you I’d be here,” James says.

Robbie can’t stop staring at James. “You did die.”

James’s expression sobers, and he nods.

“But…” Robbie reaches for James’s hand, his own hands shaky as he takes James’s pulse. It’s strong and sturdy. “…you’re alive?”

“I’m alive,” James says, “because you were right.”

Robbie looks at James, waiting for the clarification that he knows is coming.

“It turns out,” James says, “you really wouldn’t look back.”

Never, Robbie thinks, but his throat is suddenly too tight with emotion for him to say so. Instead, he nods.

“Are you all right?” James asks.

“Me?” Robbie says, rubbing his eyes. “You’re the one who was just dead!”

“I got better,” James offers.

And of all things, that stupid joke is what tips the scales and sets Robbie crying. “Sorry…”

James would normally make another joke here, to put Robbie at his ease, but this time, he reaches out to pull Robbie closer. “Come here.”

Robbie leans in and lets James hold him.

The joke comes a few minutes later, when James says, “You’ll have to have a myth written about you now.”

“I hope not,” Robbie manages to say through his sniffling.

“Well,” James says lightly, but with an undercurrent of deep emotion Robbie has learnt to hear, “you’re my hero anyway.”

That’s all the recognition Robbie needs, and he smiles.

Maybe later, they’ll watch some crap telly.


End file.
